I Love The Way You Move
by Alias Blackclaw
Summary: There were no words, only lights, sounds and flesh. She was starstruck for that moment, as the past few days were completely gone, and all that mattered was this pulsating bass and her body, and this club. Claire/Ada Femslash


_A/N: Pssshhh… Crazy Yuri Kink oneshots. I love this one. Cross posted on the RE Kink Meme. Enjoy you crazy girl love lovers, you. I /just/ go my laptop back up and running, so please forgive my absence. Hugs and Kisses._

_**I love the way you move…**_

Bad missions, bad days, they all don't matter here. Wherever here was, no… that didn't matter either. The where and the how, and most importantly the **why** dies the moment you lay your eyes on that place. Her eyes kissed the glow of that neon sign, those bubble letters painted in fluorescent pink and she looked nowhere else. She was Claire Redfield, she was too old for clubs, too busy and too mature for that, at least that's what they thought, but again, the why was _insignificant_.

In black hell-raising boots with a thick sole, black tight pants that curved along her thighs and ass, and a tight tank top that barely covered the top of her stomach, she was ready for this, ready to completely lose control. Why was this freedom fighter going bad, even for a night? Harvardvale and hundreds of rotting faces to forget were fresh on her mind, that's why. Not to mention… the man of her god-damn dreams didn't say much more to her than a robot, and spent his time ogling over that ugly chick Angela and her enormous tits.

Claire shook her head, her thick ponytail sweeping the collar of her neck, and her bright blue eyes darkened in the night air, as if daring the entrance of the rave, challenging it with her best glare before marching into the deafening scream of some hellishly fast techno song. The air grew five times thicker with sugar, sweat, alcohol and sex, the sting of tobacco and just… people. There were masses of people in the haze of the strobes and the smoke, so many people grinding together. They moved to the music or to their own beat, but it was all the same, a dance of sweat-ridden smacking flesh. Her head and body were pounding as the base vibrated through her muscles, and it was almost therapeutic the way it rammed into her senses. There were no words, only lights, sounds and flesh. She was starstruck for that moment, as the past few days were completely gone, and all that mattered was this pulsating bass and her body, and this club.

The why and how died with the sense of not belonging, and she strode into that mass of flesh like a goddess, swinging her hips and brushing against every piece of hot, steamed skin she could. They touched her, felt her, held her while she slid against them, and it felt fucking **amazing**. Legs brushed against hers, wet from dancing, wishing that there was no black denim keeping them from a flesh to flesh kiss. A faceless dancer met her in the middle, and they slid their hips to the music, grinding and exploring each other, and she didn't care where his hands went, the reason and sense was dead in this anyways. He slithered along her back, and she pushed into him, dipping low and riding those tremors his body made, the base shattering her ears and her mind. Dancing at a rave was a promiscuous affair, and it wasn't long before she left that faceless partner for another, and another, and another, until her body was tingling with touch and her brow was shining in the strobes.

It was then that her next partner sought her out from behind, stealing her away from a man with a firm grip on her stomach. This one, though, was not another sex-starved male… No, this one was a woman, a woman with incredible control over her body, it seemed. She did not turn around to face the dancer, only moved with her as she commanded her joints and muscles to curve and slide. This one was a snake in her movements, an incarnation of the very beat itself, sexual and fast. Her calves ran up Claire's slowly, teasingly, the bare skin rubbing the denim and the heel-capped foot hanging on for the ride as the woman behind her swayed against her. Claire was flushed, dizzied, intoxicated by the sounds and the feeling of skin, the animalistic touches and that raw arousal that the crowd just seemed to ooze with. She pulled forward, moving in a circle to face her partner, the woman whose breasts were so delightfully pushing against her back, and she was so glad for her condemned senses and her lack of reason, and that the **why **was dead. That woman was _her_.

She could never forget _her_. Ada Wong…

The woman looked the same, as if time decided to spare her. She had the same face, angled at the cheeks just enough to give the curve of her lips that voluptuous turn of the mouth. She was thinner than before, but Claire didn't care for much else. Who could see very well in that horrid lighting anyways? If the reason wasn't dead, she would be angry, furious, and Ada must have known that when her partner hesitated for the briefest moment, because she pulled Claire close by her lower back, those plush, full lips arching to the shell of her ear.

"I won't tell if you won't tell." she purred, and her voice was smooth velvet and poison. Claire shivered into it, her head momentarily lifted by the sheer sexuality of it. Yes, Ada was an enemy, and a spy… Another kink in Leon's heart that she very well knew about, but she was also a human in the claws of the music. Through her crimson halter (was it crimson?) and her dark black skirt, she could smell the club on her, but then again, she was in kissing distance of one of her enemies. Ada let a soft and warm breath hiss through her lips onto Claire's neck, and she moved her hips, lightly, easily. It was an invitation, a plain question whether to ignore your faction and simply obey your body, or whether to leave now out of loyalty. Ada slithered against her, and the strobes ghosted her beautiful body, and the music fueled the way she moved. Claire was a slave to this harmony, a slave to the seductress that was Ada Wong. She moved with her, against her, touching her, hesitantly at first, but as the music mounted, the tempo rose, she touched her more. Ada ran her body like an artist would sculpt something, molding movements and sweet sex into the air, swaying and pressing into Claire's body, grinding their hips together and dancing and dancing. With every motion and second, the younger woman grew bolder, touching more, exploring more to this woman. Claire's drunk hands wandered, finding the muscles of her back, her hips, her ass, and she pulled the woman closer. She was panting out of exertion, flushed from all of this, her heart beating wildly, her head spinning. The how and why were dead, but there was a thing to take it's place, and that thing was need.

Ada growled over the music in response, but her mouth was caught in that ever-knowing crimson-swacked smirk. She swung her hips into Claire's hands and backed them both up. And then that was when they hit the wall, and Claire found herself between a slick club wall, and Ada's sweating, gorgeous body, pinned.

That woman knew too much, and Claire knew she knew. This was all too much. She felt hot and aroused and altogether hypnotized, and Ada just **knew**, didn't she?

"Mmm…play with me, baby?" she purred in that way of hers, rocking her hips into Claire, her lips hungry and her mind craving this strange and desperate game. Claire said nothing, but let a small sound escape her lips, only to be drowned in the music and the ear-shattering base.

She took no further invitation, and stole the pink lips of her younger partner, pressing Claire against the wall and burying her in a wet, animal kiss. She gasped, Ada entered.

The kiss was unlike anything she had ever felt. Nothing in comparison seemed so hot and wet, and just… raw… Perhaps it was the way Ada's tongue tasted (red wine and a spice she couldn't identify), or perhaps it was the way it moved through her mouth… but she couldn't bring herself to pull away. If she wasn't here in that zone of dead reason, she would have slapped the woman, but there was no room for that incessant **why, **and Claire kissed back. She had never once kissed another girl, and the difference was amazing. The lips were so soft and yet powerful, moving with finesse and practice that she just… couldn't describe. And then Ada pulled away, and Claire let out a soft whine.

"If you want to play, let's play." she growled out.

Ada's hands ran to the curves of her ass, squeezing lightly and teasing. "You play with me, and I'll play with you."

The music shifted to a high paced hardcore assault, and Claire grew bold, the music slamming through her senses as her hands ran up Ada's sides, to those breasts that she could hardly see in the dark, but she could feel them, squeeze them, rub the buds of her nipples through her shirt. Ada twitched and her back curled, and Claire cupped her gently. Apparently the woman was not one for inexperience, for she lowered one of her hands to pull at Claire's chin, pulling her roughly to her chest.

"You know what I want you to do." she hissed, and oh god, yes she did.

Claire wanted her turn, but it was tit for tat, and she had no doubt that this woman had skill in the subject. She was hesitant at first (Could Ada really want this?), but she parted her lips, kissing the hardened bud that rose above her halter. Her partner twitched and pulled her closer. Claire opened her mouth and licked, softly, and Ada tensed in anxiousness. She wanted this. Claire took a breath and closed her lips onto it, sucking through the fabric, and the woman pinning her positively shuddered. Why she would want this was beyond her, but it was obviously having it's effect. Claire moved to the other bud, more encouraged, and clasped her hands around the woman's waist as she kneeled and sucked, her saliva seeping through the material. Ada moaned, she could feel it, but the music had devoured the satisfactory sound. Claire rose her head, as if seeking approval, and Ada smiled devilishly, digging her hands under the fabric of Claire's tank top and running them up the woman's soft, sweat-laced skin. Her hands ran around her back, and she pressed her body close to hide the woman from sight while she easily unhooked Claire's bra, almost immediately pressing to mold them into her palms, tease the nerves, watch Claire's expression through the random flashes of light. Claire really was a gorgeous woman…

Ada leaned in and kissed her again, pulling the girl's bra out from under her shirt, and tossing it to the floor, pressing her partner's head into the wall, kissing her within an inch of her life while her hands retreated from her skin, to occupy themselves at her scalp. Claire couldn't think whatsoever, she was being assaulted from all sides by pleasure and sound. Ada's poisonous lips and the powerful motions of the music which they still seemed to follow. In a second, Ada had flicked off her hair band, and long off-red hair went spilling wildly over her shoulders. She was gorgeous… untamed.

Ada only broke the kiss for air, her hands finding the button of that damn black skirt and unclasping it. They were still in public, they had to be discrete… But god if this one wasn't gorgeous… So she took Claire's hand and pressed those fingers at the waist of her panties pointedly.

"Touch me, baby…" she growled. It was an order not a request, and Ada's hand around her wrist made that perfectly clear.

She didn't think or feel anything but the music and her partner, and so she did. She pushed those fingers over that hem and pressed them against Ada's sensitive lips, and it wasn't much of a shock at this point, but she was hairless and wet, and god-damn hot. She dig a finger past that ring of muscle, and pressed her thumb against the divot, and Ada seemed to tense and press closer into her (if that was possible), her hands balled into fists full of fabric to hold the damn skirt up (though she so wanted to touch this girl…).

"Mmm… yes… move to the music, rock me Claire."

She felt her head lighten, and bowed it into Ada's shoulder, pressing the digit deep into her, and sliding it out again, before following her advice, and simply rocking her hand to the pulse-shattering base. It was fast, quick, desperate, and Ada bucked into her fingers each time, her head reeling. She felt the woman's orgasm through her sweaty body, the way it sprung her muscles and made her breathing pause for just a moment, only to reduce to heavy panting as fluids dripped all over Claire's fingers.

Claire should have felt embarrassed, wasn't that the general consensus? She wasn't, no. She simply pulled back her fingers and thrust her hips into her partner as a silent demand. She wanted fucked, no… she needed this… She needed release with the god-damn music, an escape from everything for a while. Ada chuckled and obliged, unzipping her jeans (Finally… thank god…) and doing the same…

Ada's fingers were skilled, powerful, and they slid in perfectly, and Ada matched the beat of the music perfectly, rocking her whole body into her partner and stroking her just the right way, clawing her on the wet, hot inside, exploring her with purpose and drive and so much fucking finesse…

"Ah… god… Ada…"

The woman heard that, for her lips met Claire's neck, sucking softly on the pulse there and smiling against her skin. Claire felt herself pounded into oblivion by the beat, and crying out as oblivion turned into stars. Her climax pulled over her body like a second skin, and she shuddered into that feeling of utter content and bliss, ecstasy and power.

Ada smirked. "I'm meeting you more often, Claire Redfield. See you around."

And she sealed the sentence by pulling the zipper of Claire's pants up, and pressing a soft, sensuous kiss to her lips.

…then she was gone…

The _why _and _how _returned in a flurry, and the _where _suddenly horrified her. Claire escaped in a run, a near sprint, running to her bike and kicking it up before anyone could know what had just happened. The rotting faces came back, the music was no longer audible… but she could still feel the sweaty skin of her enemy on her lips.


End file.
